Summary

Anders could feel Fenris’ eyes on him, an unwavering stare prickling his skin. Anders wanted to scratch that unholy itch until they both bled. If he wished to overrule the looming beast, he must find redemption between his elven shadow’s gaze and his own reflection in the water.

Between outcroppings of rock along the Minanter River's edge, Fenris sought words of persuasion. He must reach for reason and hope in a sky that stretched the length of Thedas before them. He wanted to make Anders cry and laugh and scream and beg, and all at once.

Fenris railed. “I hated Justice with every fiber of my soul. But without him to control your impulses, you are half a man.” Anders turned, defiant. “Or a man and a half, compared to you.”